Alone
by Devoregirl
Summary: After the events following El's kidnapping, Neal faces house arrest and increasing hostility. the stress takes a toll on his health. Shameless Neal whump, because i felt like it. NOW COMPLETE! Warning, may be a bit OOC.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a random one-shot following the events of 'Checkmate'. Totally AU. Its just some random Neal whump age for no reason other than my drug addled mind steered the story in this direction. Please bear with me. Read and Review!

The cold November wind chilled him to the bone as he stood on the terrace, staring out into the night. A sigh escaped his frozen lips as he leant on the cool stonework, resting his head on his arms. He was tired. But like the previous few weeks, he couldn't sleep. A strange combination for sure, he supposed his deep rooted feelings of guilt were responsible for this contradiction.

It was 4 am, Neal let out another sigh. His breath cooling and appearing as condensation in front of him. He pulled his robe tighter around himself, shivering a little as it didn't do much to ward off the chill that had settled deep within his being. It had been two weeks since El's rescue, two weeks since peter had thanked him for helping rescue her. Two weeks of total house arrest after his work was done, two weeks since anyone had looked at him other than the occasional cold or disgusted look he was now at the receiving end of. Two weeks since he had talked to anyone about anything not related to a case. Two weeks of sleepless nights. Two weeks of pure hell.

Mozzie was gone, his only friend had left him because of his betrayal. Because he chose Peter and the FBI before a man who had had his back for nearly a decade and a half. Because he had chosen to be treated like an animal instead of getting a tan on an island somewhere. Neal let out a bitter laugh, he really was stupid for thinking that everything would go back to the way it had been after risking his life to rescue El.

Another cold breeze wildly tossed his hair and he welcomed the cold, welcomed the numbness that accompanied it. Grateful that they had at least let him have the terrace. His studio apartment had started feeling a lot smaller since they had started locking him in and bolting the doors. Diana or Jones- Agent Berrigan or Agent Jones used to come by every morning to unlock him and give him a ride to the bureau, a very awkward ride with no conversations and occasional cold glares directed towards him.

Neal blinked back the exhaustion from his eyes, running a hand over his face as he headed inside. It was time to go get dressed for work. He miserably stifled a yawn and headed off to take a shower.

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Reese Hughes looked down at the bullpen, concern pulling his forehead into a frown as he saw Caffrey collide into a wall in the break area. He quickly backed off and continued on his way to the coffee machine, his expression one of total casualness and if Hughes hadn't seen the momentary slip up, he wouldn't have noticed that anything was amiss.

But since he had noticed the clumsy feat performed by the con-man who possessed cat-like reflexes, he kept his eyes opened the whole day for any clues as to what was wrong with the FBI's most precious asset. During the briefing of the most recent case in the conference room, Hughes noticed that caffrey seemed a bit off. His concentration not what it usually was. He couldn't seem to focus on anything in particular, his gaze constantly flickering around the did seem paler, his eyes had dark smudges underneath them. He angles of his face were just a tad sharper than he recalled. Strange but nonetheless nothing serious it seemed, Hughes brushed it off.

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Agent Diana Berrigen thought of herself as a fair woman. She tolerated no bullshit, but she was definitely a fair person. So when she spent half an hour waiting for Neal to come out of his ridiculously huge studio apartment to no avail, she felt justified is slamming the door open with a kick, storming inside with all intention of setting caffrey straight. Who the hell did he think he was? He had had a long weekend to catch up on any sleep deficiency that he had. There was absolutely no reason for him to have slept in today of all days, when he had an important undercover operation waiting for him.

Diana continued her internal rant as she looked for the reason for her ire, her eyes were drawn to the terrace where the curtain blew inwards with the cold wind. She headed there, assuming Neal to be having coffee or breakfast outside. What she saw made her blood run cold.

Neal was indeed there, but there was something very, very wrong. He sat in the corner on the floor, his legs outstretched in front of him. An easel had been set up nearby and the painting on it made Diana draw in a sharp breath. It was beautiful and yet horrifying at the same time. It was a painting of Neal's deceased girlfriend, Kate. And she seemed to be reaching out for her, utter desperation and agony on her face as she burned.

Diana tore her gaze from the painting and turned her attention to the seemingly sleeping consultant. She knelt down by him, and tried to find a pulse. She found one, albeit a weak one but it was there. His lips were turning blue, so were the tips of his fingers. She could feel the fever radiating from his body through the thin material of his shirt. Her attempts to rouse him were in vain.

She didn't remember making the call but soon paramedics were there, taking Neal away on a stretcher, pushing her aside gently. She watched, horrified as they took him away, wondering how things has gotten so bad.

A/N: This was intended to be a one-shot. I'm not really happy with how it went. But, oh well. Please review and let me know what you thought. Should I continue it?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2- Everything Burns**

**A/N:Thank you all those who read, reviewed, followed and/or favourited this story. You have all inspired and encouraged me to continue writing, thank you for that. This chapter has slight references to neal/kate relationship. There is nothing graphic romantically speaking and even if you don't like the couple, I'd urge you to still give this chapter a try. I hope you enjoy. Oh and all the medical stuff in this story is probably really exaggerated and unrealistic because I wanted to put in a lot of Neal hurt so I apologize if that annoys someone. Do press that review button or PM me about how you felt this piece of writing was, I'd really appreciate it. And reviews make me write **

A gentle nudge woke him up from a peaceful sleep.

'Mmmhmm, five more minutes!' the blue eyed con-man said only to be ignored and nudged again, forcing him to open his eyes and smile at the sight that was before him.

A fully dressed Kate sat on the bed next to him on her knees, balancing a tray of breakfast in her hands as she repeatedly nudged him with her elbow. She was wearing a simple outfit, a black halter top with loose fitting pants and the food in the tray was not perfect, the scrambled eggs seemed a bit under cooked and the sausages were slightly burnt. But at that moment, with her smiling and looking at him- her face one filled with innocence and slight pride at having done what she deemed to be such a major feat, with the sunlight falling just so.. making it seem as if a halo was sitting atop her head made her absolutely perfect to Neal.

"Mmmm, I could get used to this.' He said, his mouth curving into a rare genuine smile that made itself known in her presence alone as raised himself off the bed by his elbows, placing a soft kiss on her mouth.

"I'd rather you didn't, my cooking is such a disaster.' She laughed, her eyes dancing with happiness.

"Imperfection is what makes you perfect. I love you, thank you for this.' He said as he gently kissed her forehead and then took a bite of his breakfast. 'Besides, this is delicious! I don't know what you were so worried about.' Neal continued, smiling sweetly at her as he took a large swallow of orange juice to cover up the excessive salt in the eggs.

'Oh, you!' she smiled as she took a bite, a grimace marring her features as she tasted the extra salt. 'Blegh! This is awful!' all she had wanted to do was make Neal something for breakfast to show him how much she loved her and the food that she made wasn't even edible. She felt like such a failure.

'Well, I love it!' her gorgeous blue eyed boyfriend replied as he devoured the food, bringing a huge smile to her face.

They lived in a shabby little one bedroom apartment. They were broke. They had to eat really bad food (when Kate cooked, Neal excelled at cooking) and drink cheap wine. Yet neither of them had ever been happier than they were at that moment.

That is, until the moment the door slammed open with a shout of "FBI! We have you surrounded. Surrender and come out peacefully!' and three very familiar figures wearing extremely unfamiliar expressions of pure loathing barged in, destroying the happy little bubble the two had been basking in.

"Peter! Jones? Diana? What are you doing here? Whats going on?' The often deviously smart con-man was confused.

"Neal caffrey, you are under arrest for the murder of your girlfriend Kate Munroe." Diana declared, adding to the confusion of the blue eyed man.

"M-Murder? What the hell are you talking about?' Neal stuttered, clutching Kate close to himself as Jones threw what smelled like gasoline at them, and all over their apartment.

"Peter? Whats going on? Peter! PETER!" Neal yelled as Peter Burke, his once best friend lit a match and threw it at them.

Flames engulfed the couple, Neal watched in detached fascination and horror as fire crept on Kates' body, as she writhed and shrieked in pain. As the flames engulfed him, filling him with agony he had never experienced before. His back arched and he screamed as his legs, his torso, his arms and finally his face was on fire. Arms restrained him, he couldn't see. He couldn't hear. He couldn't breathe. But the white hot fire burned him as he struggled, struggled in vain as everything went dark.

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It had been six hours since they had brought Neal to the hospital. The state of the con-man scared Jones. He was so used to seeing the suave, calm and collected man that the pale, unresponsive person with several machines and tubes attached to various parts of his body made him rather nauseous. An over-whelming feeling of guilt sucked him in for a moment. Neal was supposed to be their friend, and they had treated him like crap the past few weeks. The man was a social butterfly and yet they had shunned him for two long weeks until something had cracked in the CI and he had ended up like this. They had punished him for something that he had repeatedly claimed was not his fault. And there had been no evidence that Neal had possessed the nazi loot. Yet they hadn't given him the benefit of doubt, assuming that since he was a criminal it was his fault.

Jones still had no idea whether Neal was in fact responsible for the theft or not. But he still regretted his hostile attitude for the past several days towards the man. Even if he had stolen the treasure, he had saved his life a few months before when he was discovered in an undercover op. Clinton owed Neal caffrey, so why had he been such an ass towards him? Besides, Neal had nothing to do with Elizabeth Burke's kidnapping. The man had risked his life saving hers from what he gathered from the bloody gash that adorned his head the night El was rescued and the not so slight limp he had walked out of the house with.

Jones was startled out of his thoughts when the alarms on the alien-looking machines surrounding Neal went berserk. As he watched with horrified fascination, the con-man started writhing on his bed, his body convulsing as the CRO monitoring his heart rate screamed for attention. Several doctors and nurses pushed past him as Neal caffery flat-lined.

**A/N: Loved it? Hated it? Questions? Comments? Please review! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you for all your overwhelming support. Seriously, reviews inspire me to write. Now, I know a lot of you have been wondering what Peter has been up to and this chapter is about him. There is slight Peter/El in this but nothing graphic. I hope you like it. Let me know how you are finding the story so far. Please R&R!**

The shrill screaming of the alarm on his bed side roused Peter Burke from his not-so-peaceful slumber. Ever since El's kidnapping, he had been plagued with nightmares. The what if's certainly weren't helping him sleep either. His anger was directed at his once friend and partner, Neal caffery. Neal, who he had trusted. Neal, who he had given a chance. The criminal he had treated like a friend. The same man who had looked him in the eye for the pass half year and lied to him about the treasure, because in spite of his claims that he was innocent, peter was done believing in the con-man's false words. The man who had betrayed him, whose greed had nearly gotten his wife killed. His El, his beautiful, wonderful, darling wife. El who was mad at him for being so harsh on his CI, pleading him with those big blue eyes to give Neal another chance. To at least let him explain before shutting him from their lives for good.

El believed that Neal had saved her and therefore he was redeemable even if he had stolen the loot, which he blatantly denied. But he had listened to El. He hadn't gotten Neal carted off to prison like he wanted to for getting Elizabeth kidnapped. No. he had been considerate. He still used Neal as an FBI asset for solving cases, speaking of which today was the day Neal would go undercover in an operation against one of his suspected old associates.

"You should talk to him." Peter turned around to face his beautiful El as she gave him an annoyed look. "You haven't even given him a chance to explain, Peter. Don't you think that's being unfair?" Elizabeth Burke scowled at her husband, pushing herself out of bed.

"Hon, after what he has done.." Peter started only to be cut off by El.

"After he has done what, exactly? Fought with Keller to save me? Possibly given up the score of a lifetime to save my life?" Elizabeth interrupted, a fire blazing from her eyes.

"I trusted him, El. He screwed it up." Peter tried explaining to his wife.

"Peter, hon. I know you're hurt. But keep in mind all he did to save me. He abhors violence. He took part in a fist fight. A fist fight, peter! And he got hurt! Don't tell me that you didn't notice that awful gash on his head that night? And he shot a man! He shot Keller! Do you have any idea how traumatic that might have been for him? Have you talked to him about that?"

Peter's slightly guilty look had El gasping in shock. "Have you talked to him… at ALL?!" her tone was verging on dangerous now.

An intense feeling of guilt and shame overcame Peter and he was unable to look his wife in the eye as he whispered a soft "No."

A pair of soft hands gently tilted his face upwards and he found himself looking into crystal pools of blue. "Honey, try. For me. Please. Promise me you will try to talk to him. I know that it's hard for you, but at least try."

He nodded his head, albeit a little hesitantly but was awarded with a loving kiss for the gesture nonetheless.

"You're a good man Peter Burke. I love you." His smiling wife told him, once again touching her soft lips to his. God, he loved his El.

"How about we have breakfast. I'll make my world famous blueberry pancakes."

"That sounds wonderful, hon. I wonder, can you take the day off from work today? Let us have some 'us' time." El suggested, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Mmmm, that sounds great." Peter kissed his wife once again.

"And turn off your phone, let us not have any interruptions today." El giggled as peter lifted her up and spun her around.

"Your wish is my command, my love." The FBI agent said as he sent a quick text to Jones letting him know that he won't be coming in today before he switched off his phone and started making breakfast.

It was late afternoon when Peter finally remembered to switch his phone back on. He had had an amazing few hours with his wife and now that she was off making lunch, he thought he'd check up on whether everything was fine at the office. He was sure it was all hunkey dorey, he wasn't the only agent around after all.

A frown made its way on his forehead as he saw the numerous text messages and missed calls. He pressed the buttons necessary for listening to his voicemails and was awarded by the harried voice of a normally very cool and collected Agent Diana Berrigen.

"Boss, where are you? Caffrey is in the hospital and its pretty bad!"

**A/N: So, how do you find the story so far? Questions? Comments? Please review. Also, I'd like to mention that this story is not yet completed so if anyone has any requests or suggestions, please let me know. I'll try to incorporate your ideas into the storyline. **


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you everyone who has reviewed so far. Everyone's positive comments made me write faster. I love Reviews, they totally make my day and inspire me :) I've also edited this chapter thanks to some advice I received in the reviews. Thank you, the guest for giving me a heads up on what was medically incorrect with the story. Also, many thanks to Fierce queen for pointing out and explaining a few discrepencies with some characters personality.

An extremely worried June Ellington made her to the information desk at the hospital, even worried sick she managed to look graceful as she questioned the receptionist for the whereabouts of her tenant and almost son. She hadn't been at her house for the past few months since her daughter got pregnant and she went to live with her in a quaint little house a few hours outside New York. Neal had assured her that it wasn't a problem and after giving her a loving hug and bestowing a kiss on her cheek, bade her farewell and told her extremely heartily that he hoped she would enjoy herself.

That's why when her housekeeper called her in near hysterics in the morning claiming that "Mr Caffrey was just taken to the hospital, madam!" she had rushed over to see what exactly was wrong. She was directed to the fourth floor, where the ICU was.

With a heavy heart she approached the waiting area, making her way to the few people she knew. There was Diana, looking pale and seeming like she wanted very much to throw up. Then there were Peter and Elizabeth who looked like they had just reached their destination mere minutes ago.

"What happened?" June directed her question towards Peter who seemed like the obvious choice, being Neal's' handler and best friend.

To her shock, he looked embarrassed as he whispered "I'm sorry, but I don't know what happened."

Clinton Jones chose that very moment to make his way to the odd group from what looked like inside the ICU.

"What's going on, Jones? What's wrong with caffrey?" June was rather surprised when Peter addressed Neal with his last name but she forgot all about it when she heard Jones reply.

"He just flat-lined. He was convulsing or something and then his heart stopped beating." Jones said rather numbly as lowered himself on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs hospitals were incomplete without as June let out horrified gasp. What had happened in the month she had been away to make peter refer to Neal by his last name with a coldness she had not expected from him to be ever associated with the younger man. And what exactly was wrong with Neal?

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One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

Turn around and repeat.

Diana had been pacing in the waiting room for fifteen minutes straight after hearing the horrifying news about Neal. She had been wearing down the carpet in the waiting area, although- she mused- it was really ugly so her pacing making it fade a bit would actually be helping the décor.

She snapped out of her thoughts when she saw a young doctor coming her way.

"Family of Neal Caffrey?" she inquired and they all rose to greet her.

"How is he, doctor?" June asked, slightly breathless. Diana had noticed the close relationship between the landlady and her tenant

"Mr Caffrey is in critical condition. He was admitted to this hospital with an extremely high fever of 105 degrees and severe is dehydrated and malnourished and we have started an IV to help sort out that particular problem. We gave him antibiotics to combat the pneumonia but he went into anaphylactic shock because he is allergic to that particular drug. He flat-lined but we got him back pretty soon so we're expecting no brain damage. Our main concern right now is his fever, its too high and we haven't been able to get it down. It caused him to have a seizure right now and we had to restrain him to prevent him from hurting himself." Dr Ayesha, as her name tag identified her, stated matter of factly but still rather gently.

"Seizures?" Peter inquired, feeling nauseous.

"Yes, when the body's temperature gets too high it can mess up the brains function causing seizures."

"What did you say about brain damage, doctor?" June asked rather timidly.

"When someone's heart stops, the brain's blood supply is often impeded which may resulting brain damage since oxygen will not reach the brain in such a case. Though, that's really unlikely in Mr caffreys case since we managed to revive him pretty quickly." The brunette replied, adjusting the stethoscope around her neck.

"Can we see him?" El asked, a bit hesitantly.

Dr Ayesha smiled in reply "You may. Though one at a time and not for more than a minute each. He needs his rest."

The group nodded and followed the Dr into the Intensive Care Unit. Diana trailed behind them, she was the one who had found Neal in the morning after all and the memory of his face still haunted her.

Diana swallowed the lump in her throat as she saw the reactions of the Burkes and June, when they saw Neal for the first time. El clutched onto her husband's arm, tears falling down her face. Peter visibly paled and swallowed convulsively. June swayed till Diana reached out and put an arm around the older woman's shoulders.

Peter went in first, they all knew he was Neal's best friend so they let him go first without question. Though he just stood and stared at the con-mans still form for a few seconds before hurrying out.

El went in next, whispering comforting words to the pale form while holding his hand.

Neither Diana nor Jones went in, they had already seen Neal and they were too embarrassed by their actions from the past two weeks.

June went in and held neals hand, talking soflty to him. When the doctor motioned for her to leave, she stroked his hair and gently kissed his burning forehead whispering "come back to me, darling."

But Neal Caffery was deaf to the world as he lay quiet and unmoving, his pallor matching the white sheets he lay upon.

A/N: okay, so I made June's daughter pregnant because I thought that there was no way Neal could have fallen sick if June had been around to take care of him. Did this chapter meet your expectations or was it a disappointment. Please let me know. Reviews are welcome.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you all those who read and reviewed my story. I sound like a broken record, but reviews really inspire me. And I really appreciate everyone who gives me advice and constructive criticism. That's how I found my beta! A huge thanks to Fierce Queen for being absolutely fantastic at picking out the inconsistencies and helping make this chapter better **

After shooing them out of the blue-eyed man's room three days ago, the small group had been politely but firmly told to go home and wait. And if they had faith, to pray for the sick man. They were told that they could visit Neal for a short period of time the next day during visiting hours but for now, they had to leave. When they had insisted that they were his friends and the closest thing to a family he had, an attendant had disdainfully told them that he was in critical condition and that they weren't his family.

"Listen ma'am, that man is a convicted felon and he is a flight risk." Diana tried to get the attendant to allow at least one of them to stay with the con-man.

"Well, Agent..?" the attendant turned a sharp eye towards the dark-skinned woman.

"Agent Diana Berrigan."

"Agent Berrigan" the attendant started, showing her disapproval towards the woman. "Mr. Caffrey flat-lined a few hours ago. He cannot breathe on his own. Even if he was awake, he would be hallucinating because of his high fever. So I _really_ doubt that he is a flight risk right now."

Diana and the rest of the group stared dumbstruck at the extremely pissed off woman.

"This hospital does make exceptions for family." She once again started, causing a relieved smile to go around the small group of people forming a rather timid semi-circle around her.

"You all however are NOT his family. I somehow doubt you're even his friends! This man is sick- very, very sick. And it doesn't take a short time for someone's health to get so devastatingly bad. Not like this anyway. This man hadn't eaten or had any water in the past two days, judging by the malnourishment his body is showing. I'd say he hasn't been eating right for a while now. Where exactly were you- his 'friends'- when Mr. Caffrey was going through this? If you hadn't found him when you did Agent Berrigan, I can guarantee you would have come across a corpse." the short, stout woman reprimanded. Giving them a final glare, she turned on her heels and marched right past them to some other part of the hospital.

After being told off by a woman who was nearly half his height, Peter Burke felt rather embarrassed. Not because of the height difference, or the fact she was a woman. No, Peter was too strong a person to have such petty thoughts. His embarrassment was borne of the fact that the attendant had indeed been right. Neal hadn't been well for some time and he had brushed it off. Peter had seen the bags under his eyes, the increasing pallor, the angles of his face becoming increasingly sharper with each passing day, and Peter watched with a feeling of satisfaction as the man who he had a few days ago considered a younger brother seemed to be suffering the consequences of his own guilt.

El rested a reassuring hand on his arm and gently led Peter away, knowing that her husband was busy blaming himself for something that was actually, for once, partly his own fault. Not that she was not to be blamed at all. She should have at least called Neal and talked to him—should have pressured Peter a bit more to give Neal a chance to explain. But she hadn't. She shook her head, trying to clear it. The past couldn't be changed. Now all they could do was hope that Neal woke up so they could apologize for being such dreadful friends she thought to herself as she led her shell-shocked husband out of the ICU, towards the exit.

Diana was having a hard time not bursting into tears, but she was a tough agent. Not a little girl. And trained FBI agents did NOT cry! She told herself in vain as a lone tear made its way out of her eye, down her face. Well, crap. She was probably a little girl then she concluded quickly brushing away the traitorous drop of water from her face, not knowing that she wasn't alone till as comforting arm was placed on her shoulder.

She looked up to see an equally guilty looking Jones staring down at her.

"We screwed up, didn't we?" he said, guilt and worry making his voice crack.

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It had been three days since Neal had flat-lined. 72 hours of being absolutely terrified for her husband's partner. Because that is what Neal was to Peter, El thought. At first, her husband— and if she was being honest, she herself— had believed that the enigmatic man was just conning them to get to Kate. And she wasn't sure to this day that that initial notion was wrong. El thought that Neal had in all likelihood struck a deal with Peter to find Kate and had all intentions of bolting as soon as that mission was accomplished. But she also believed that something had changed along the way. Neal had changed. Peter had changed. Heck, she felt certain that she along with everyone in the white collar division had changed, allowing Neal to fit in so perfectly in their lives. And because of that acceptance, Neal had decided that running could be put on hold at that moment. Because who were they kidding? Neal Caffrey was an absolute genius. He had escaped super-max**, **and she was pretty certain that many of his past 'alleged' adventures had left him in plenty of tough spots and he had been able to get away then too. What was a mere tracking anklet to him? He could have easily disappeared whenever he wanted to. But he didn't and to her, that's the thing that counted the most.

"Come on, Neal. You got out of tighter spots than this. You can get out of this one." El whispered to the pale form of the con-man as she clutched his slender hand in her own, trying to comfort the unconscious man in the few minutes she had been given to visit him.

Almost as if they had synchronized it, the alarms on the monitors went wild. Neal was waking up.

**A/N: So how did you like this chapter? Also, what do you think is going to happen now? Any thoughts? Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you everyone who reviewed or PMed me, it really made me feel loved and supported Here's the next chapter. I know I said that you all would probably have to wait until next week for an update, but my wonderful beta, Fierce Queen, returned this chapter faster than I had expected!

hikeyosemite, I had already made a draft of this chapter when you reviewed suggesting the same thing that I had written! :P I hope you like it!

Enjoy Reading! And please review!

Mozzie was on a beach in Cape Verde, sipping a Margarita as he stretched making sounds people may have found rather odd, but Neal knew that they helped him balance his chi. A fond grin made its way to his face as he turned to face his friend, ready to start firing quotations that he himself didn't understand half the time; knowing it amused his friend.

The smile vanished from his face as he remembered that his friend wasn't sitting there besides him. Neal had chosen New York over his oldest friend. Neal, the man was like a brother to him, almost like a son in some ways. The vertically challenged man let out a long-suffering sigh. Neal had betrayed him. Mozzie had chosen to share the multi-billion dollar Nazi loot with his young partner in crime and what did he get in return? Neal hid the fact that he knew about the manifest, causing the whole Degas incidence. But they had resolved that fiasco and Mozzie had been willing to forgive Neal's misdemeanor, he was sure that his young friend was having a momentary lapse in judgment because the Suit had successfully brainwashed him. Yet, unfortunately for Mozzie when the sand in the hour glass had literally run out, Neal had told him he wanted to stay.

He could not imagine the severity of his blue-eyed friends Stockholm's Syndrome that he would prefer to remain confined to his two-mile radius instead of living in paradise, with everything he would ever want at his finger tops. After all, there was nothing that money couldn't buy. It didn't matter, he thought indignantly, he was here living the life. His dream of 'the score of a lifetime' had come true, much sooner than he had anticipated. Neal on the other hand was still on a two mile leash, willingly helping out the Feds, and his every move was being scrutinized by 'The Man'.

Well no matter, Mozzie huffed. He had done everything he could do to help his once friend and had been rudely snubbed in return. But that wasn't true, Moz realized as his stomach clenched for the loss of his best friend. Neal had been happy in New York. Genuinely happy. He could see it in the way his eyes lit up when he smiled. His million dollar con-man smile with his teeth flashing like a Colgate advertisement was decreasing in frequency and replaced by a boyish grin he had rarely seen in the years before Peter and the FBI. And Mozzie had forced him to choose between the treasure of a lifetime and happiness. It was clear to him now which treasure Neal cherished more.

Deep down, Mozzie knew what he had done was unfair to Neal. The Suit meant well**,** and Mrs. Suit was absolutely wonderful. The Suit family had accepted the two criminals with open arms, and they had kind of adopted Neal. Heck, even Satchmo treated Neal as part of the family. And in spite of his frequent whining about his job as a consultant, Mozzie knew that Neal loved the seemingly mundane life. His camaraderie with Junior and Lady Suit showed that. Ah, and June—the benefactress who treated both conmen like long established friends. She**, **too**,** treated Neal like a son**,** and they both truly loved each other in a way only a mother and son could. And Mozzie had wanted Neal to leave all that behind him.

If he were truly honest with himself, because there really was no point in lying to oneself after all, Mozzie was jealous. He was jealous that Neal was willing to forgo their fifteen year friendship for Peter—because it all came down to The Suit of course. Mozzie's fear that Peter was replacing him as Neal's best friend had been realized when the younger conman had made his choice to stay.

Still, he did feel rather guilty when he left Neal to deal with the aftermath of El's kidnapping all by himself. But he told himself that Neal had decided to stay after all that he had done for him and pushed aside the guilt. He remembered the younger conman's face when Elizabeth had been rescued and Neal had come to Mozzie, thanking him for giving up the treasure for her- well, part of the treasure though Neal didn't know that. He could clearly recall the hurt yet understanding look the blue eyed man had given him when Mozzie had informed him that he was still leaving New York.

Mozzie let out an annoyed huff. Hanging out with The Suit and Co was clearly making him lose his mind. They had probably used something to brainwash him. He hadn't ever felt this guilty about stealing something, and this theft surely demanded a feeling of total satisfaction. Not this heart-wrenching sorrow born of guilt and regret. So obviously, the government was using their long hidden mind control techniques on him.

So lost was he in his depressing thoughts, trying to counter them with conspiracy theories that sounded ridiculous even to him, that he missed the two beeps let out by a pager whose number only one person in the world knew. It was several hours, when he was undressing for a shower and he patted his pockets that he found the small black device glowing orange.

He had given the pager's number to June. Well, hidden it in a secret compartment along with a burner phone she had told him to hide his 'book of the week' in. It was just part of their weekly book club rituals. With a slight feeling of dread, the quirky little man dialed the number of the burner phone. He had not expected Neal to find it so soon. Mozzie regretted his words the last time he had actually spoken to his best friend.

What Mozzie had not been expecting was June Ellington's forcibly controlled voice coming from the ear piece.

"Haversham?" she asked.

"June? What's wrong?" he inquired. Something had to go really wrong for the strong woman to seem as worried as she did even though she was doing a pretty good job of hiding it. Her voice broke slightly as she spoke, making Mozzie afraid in a way he had never before experienced.

"Mozzie, it's Neal. He's in the hospital's ICU."

Thank you for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: A special thank you to my lovely beta, Fierce Queen whose critical eye picks out any mistakes I've made. This story wouldn't have been the same without you, Fierce !Thank you everyone who has been reading my story, especially the reviewers. A special thank you to the people who have added this story to their favorites list and/or have been following it. You guys make my day. I feel like hugging you all! :D I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

Neal had been shifted to a private room on his fourth day in the hospital. He had woken up several times already, but his medication kept him pretty hazy so he barely recognized his surroundings. Elizabeth Burke had spent the whole of visiting hours so far sitting in an extremely uncomfortable plastic chair by Neal's bed reading him articles about the latest exhibits in local art galleries. She had been joined, at various points of the day, by Diana and Jones along with June. She had also noticed a doctor who had a remarkable resemblance to Mozzie, his face hidden by a clipboard as he flipped through what looked like forms as she had left the young man's room for some refreshments.

Elizabeth placed the magazine on the bedside table, stretching her arms over her head. Neal looked so out of place in a hospital bed, wearing a gown he would have refused to wear had he been aware. Knowing him, had he ever needed to be in a hospital. He would probably charm the nurses into letting him wear a pair of scrubs once he woke up. His face, though pale, was covered in a flush that looked as if a child had coloured on a piece of paper with a pale pink crayon.

He was better now; his fever was down to 101 degrees and the doctors seemed satisfied with it. The pneumonia was also much better, and Neal was able to breathe on his own. There were times when he would shift uncomfortably or start muttering incoherently during El's vigil, and she soon learned that stroking Neal's hair calmed him down. The unconscious man seemed to draw comfort from the gesture, leaning into the touch.

It was a few hours past lunch when Neal woke up again, having been in and out of consciousness several times in El's presence, but never for longer than a few minutes. He didn't seem to recognize his surroundings, and he appeared to fall back into a deep sleep before El had a chance to ask him whether he needed anything. Unexpectedly, a pair of slightly glassy blue eyes met another pair of cerulean blue.

"El?" Neal said hoarsely, his voice made Elizabeth wince in sympathy.

"Here, sweetie. Why don't you drink some water," she suggested, holding out a cup of water with a straw Neal gratefully drank from.

When he stopped sipping the soothing liquid, she moved the cup away and resumed her seat next to him.

"What happened?" he asked her softly, turning beseeching eyes towards her.

"You were sick sweetie. You got pneumonia, and Diana found you unconscious in your apartment four days ago." She told him while rubbing calming circles on his hand.

"Four days? Huh. I thought I just had flu or something."

El stared at him, a little confused. He had been feeling sick, so why hadn't he told anyone?

"Why didn't you call me or Peter? You shouldn't be alone when you're sick, sweetie!" Elizabeth exclaimed, a note of disapproval at his actions present in her tone.

"I didn't think it mattered," Neal answered softly, his voice containing an undisguised hurt that broke her heart.

The attendants words came back to haunt her 'You all are NOT his family. Somehow I doubt that you're even his friends!' She had felt that the woman had been unfair to them, but after hearing the pain in Neal's voice, she knew that they had deserved the woman's wrath. From what Elizabeth gathered so far, Neal had been kept in what could be considered as an out-of-prison solitary confinement.

And she had no less of a role to play in the emotional pain the charismatic man was so obviously suffering from. She could have called him to check in on him but she hadn't. True, she wasn't aware of his house arrest situation but that made it even worse that she hadn't even thought of going and visiting him.

And for some reason, Neal believed that he deserved the treatment he had received. Elizabeth could gather from the tone of his voice that he honestly believed that he wasn't worth it. That he didn't matter. It felt like an iron band was squeezing her chest.

"Sweetie, of course it matters. We care about you Neal. I know the past few weeks haven't felt like it, but we do care. Though I swear had I known that you were put on house arrest, I would have made Peter sleep on the couch till he lifted it! And sweetie, I'm so sorry I didn't call you or try to visit. I don't even have any excuse for it but…"

"El, please don't worry about that," Neal interrupted gently. "You were kidnapped and in shock, I couldn't ever ask you to comfort me when you had just faced such a dreadful ordeal," Neal said softly, their roles now reversed as he comforted her while he slowly sat up.

"Thank you Neal," Elizabeth whispered, giving him a watery smile as she wiped away the traitorous tears that had streaked down her face, fueled by her guilt.

Neal gave her a soft smile as he grasped her hand.

Neither of them noticed that Peter had entered the room until he stepped forward and cleared his throat.

None of them, not even Neal expected what happened next. As Neal lifted his gaze to see who had entered the room, he flinched.

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you can and let me know how you felt the story has been going so far. I'd also like to know how you guys think this will go. I've been struggling with the ending and I'd really appreciate any pointers. Positive criticism is welcome!**


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I'd like to dedicate this chapter to all my Muslim readers. I might not be able to update until Eid is over and in case that happens, an early Eid Mubarak to all of you! I hope you have a fantastic time. Enjoy the parties! I sure do :P

Thank you everyone who has been reading this story. A special thanks to everyone who took the time to review, it means a lot. As usual a special thanks to my wonderful beta, Fierce Queen who picks out all the errors in the story and corrects them. And without further ado, I give you Chapter eight! Enjoy!

Peter Burke was an excellent agent, one of the best in the FBI. He kept his work relationships professional, never over stepping his bounds. His detective work was absolutely fantastic and his famous 'gut instinct' was known for solving more cases than most agents could only dream of. During his training at Quantico, he learned many things other than how to carry and use a gun. He learned the best ways to chase a suspect, to corner them, and to calm them down enough to prevent a shooting match between the two parties. He learned how to interrogate suspects, make them admit to the crimes he had proof that they had committed. He was good at detecting tells. Body language would give it away when the nail was hit on the head, and then he would chase down that path, usually coming out successful with the suspect carted off to jail to serve his or her time. He knew how to play the good cop and the bad cop, how to scare a suspect into admitting a long list of crimes and how to sympathize with a victim enough to calm them down and get information about a case. He was, however, not good at the emotional stuff and tears scared him more than any weapon pointed at him might. That was Neal's forte, empathizing with a victim. Understanding their pain and terror and then calming them down. He seemed to know exactly what was needed to make someone feel comfortable again.

Neal Caffrey. He remembered when he had snagged the conman's file in his earlier years. He was known as James Bonds then. Back then, Neal had just been another criminal—someone to catch and lock up. But then their cat-and-mouse chase had begun, and Peter had fun. He actually enjoyed chasing the young man and trying to solve the clues he had purposefully left him. Over the three years Peter had spent chasing him, he had found himself dreading the day when he would catch Neal and when the young man would be placed behind bars. He had realized soon after he started chasing the younger man that he was in fact not a bad person. He was smart, and Peter Burke loved intelligence. Neal hated violence and made sure that no one was hurt during his innumerable_, alleged,_ heists. Not to mention the fact that he was young. Neal had been about twenty-three when the FBI had been put on James Bonds' trail. Just a boy. Peter used to wonder what had turned Neal down the road to be a criminal—he could have done anything with his life. Neal was smart, talented, charming, and good looking. Anyone would have hired him. But Neal had preferred making forgeries and doing super human feats during his heists. He had admitted to Peter a few weeks ago that he was attracted to the conman's life because of the rush. It was like a drug to him.

Nonetheless, when Neal had made the unusual deal with the FBI Peter had doubted it would work. But, against all odds, their partnership had flourished and so had their friendship. Peter clearly recalled his mentor, Agent Philip Kramer, telling him that it hurt to put cuffs on his previous CI because it wasn't like arresting a suspect—it was slapping cuffs on a friend. He supposed that was the reason why he had felt such unimaginable rage towards the man when El had been taken. Neal had betrayed him. His best friend had betrayed him. And it hurt. A lot.

So when El had been home safe, and Neal had tried apologizing, Peter had cut him off. Instead, he thanked Neal in an emotion-less voice and gestured for Jones to take Neal away. Since that day, Peter hadn't made eye contact with Neal, hadn't even talked to him. Peter brushed past him whenever he came in the same room as the conman. He had refused to listen to any explanations Neal tried offering and took a perverse pleasure in the hurt look that shadowed the young man's face.

But now he wished he had. Because in spite of the anger he felt towards Neal, he was still his friend. And his friend was in the hospital surrounded by wires and tubes. His friend had looked him in the eye after countless days and flinched. Neal had flinched when he saw Peter, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

Neal turned his gaze downwards, staring at his hands as if they held the secret to The Holy Grail or Mona Lisa's mysterious smile. Neal nervously clasped and unclasped his hands as El looked between her husband and her favorite conman. She had tear tracks on her face, and Peter immediately took a step forward to find out what was wrong but she shot him a look.

"Well, I'm tired. I'm off to get some coffee. I'll get some for you too, hon," his wife announced as she gently kissed Neal's cheek and left the room, shooting her husband a glare that promised her wrath if he upset Neal in any way. She closed the door behind her, leaving the two men alone for the first time in more than two weeks.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. Please leave a review, Reviews feed the author .


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Sorry for taking so long with the update. but, you know, life happens. In my case, my exams are next week so I've been spending most of my time studying. I hope you enjoy! Thank you, Fierce Queen for the amazing beta, as usual. I don't know what I'd do without you!**

Elizabeth Burke was well known for her motherly nature. When she learned from her doctor eight years ago that she would never be able to have children she was devastated. There was always the option of adoption but she worried that she might not treat an adopted child the way he or she deserved because she would always have an intrinsic desire for her own child, a genetic and physical part of her. So the Burkes had settled for adopting a puppy, and she directed all her mothering instincts towards raising Satchmo.

Elizabeth found another outlet for directing her mothering instincts towards when Neal Caffrey entered into their lives, though she had not realized it at first. Her fondness for the con-man became rather pronounced when Peter entered the house nearly a year ago half carrying, half dragging a semi lucid Neal. She had been really worried when she found out that the con-man had been drugged, but Peter said that the hospital was out of the question because Neal had been skirting on the edge of the line distinguishing between legal and illegal and he might have stumbled a bit onto the illegal side.

So Elizabeth fussed over the young man, helping Peter take him to the couch and laying him down. She channeled her inner mother hen as she covered him with a blanket and placed an ice pack on his head. She felt a fond smile curve the corners of her lips upwards as the young man belted out a love song in a surprisingly good voice.

So to El, Neal had been like a son she never had. True, he was too old to actually be her son, adopted or otherwise, but the young man had a very boyish personality. Neal's childish antics frustrated her husband to no end, but she knew for a fact that no matter how exasperated Peter acted, he loved the young ball of energy that was Neal Caffrey. Even if it got him into trouble more often than not.

She could read Neal pretty well. Not as well as her husband, perhaps. Peter was good at staying one step ahead of the con-man and figuring out his motives. El was better at reading his emotions. She could tell when he was upset about something that he wouldn't talk to anyone about, so she would distract him from those thoughts by engaging him in a conversation or borrowing his palette to test 'some of that fancy stuff' as Peter referred to delicacies. The months following Kate's death, she had visited Neal often by herself, and he talked to her about his lost love in a way that she doubted he could with Peter. She could often see the flash of pain behind his eyes when someone tried to get him to talk about his past. He hid it behind an almost instantaneously placed poker face, and being the master of manipulation that he was, he would smoothly changed the topic. But she still managed to notice.

Elizabeth Burke was good at reading people, especially Neal Caffrey. So she had read the momentary panic in Neal's eyes as he had looked up to see Peter when her husband made his presence known in the hospital room. That in and of itself surprised her. She could not fathom why Neal would be scared of her husband. But when Neal had actually flinched upon making eye contact, alarm bells started going inside her head. There was something seriously wrong between the two men and it needed to be fixed as soon as possible.

So the smart woman had placed a comforting hand on Neal's, gave him a quick peck on his cheek and made an excuse to get coffee. She had shot a warning look to her husband and then left the room, hoping that the two men could talk and praying that everything would go back to normal soon.

WCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWC

Neal felt slightly embarrassed at flinching when he saw Peter. He was a con-man, and he prided himself on being the master of his emotions. He could put on any mask he wanted to, fool any mark. But having such an obvious physical reaction to show his fear of the man who he had not long ago considered to be his best friend was rather damaging for his ego.

So Neal stared at his hands as El squeezed his hand and to his surprise, kissed his cheek. When she said that she was leaving to get coffee, Neal felt his stomach coil in dread. He didn't want her to leave! He nearly told her not to leave him alone and had an overwhelming desire to grab her hand, but he managed to suppress it. He was a con-man damn it! He did not go displaying his emotions for everyone to see. Not to mention it wouldn't help the awkwardness between the two men.

Peter cleared his throat, trying to break the ice now that El had abandoned him. Neal continued to stare resolutely at his hands.

"How are you feeling?" Peter started cautiously.

Neal finally looked up from his hands to stare a point beyond Peter's shoulders as he replied in a voice not giving anything away. "I'm fine. The doctors say that I can go home in a few days."

"Good, that's good." Peter wasn't good at this sort of thing. He felt like face palming himself.

"Yeah."

"Well, I've got to go back to the office. Those mortgage frauds aren't going to solve themselves!" Peter made a rather failed attempt at humour.

"Bye," came the soft reply.

_God, I'm terrible at this_, Peter thought to himself as he left Neal's room, shutting the door behind him. And El was going to kill him. He wondered whether the friendship between him and Neal would ever go back to normal as he left the hospital's parking lot.

**Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you can. Reviews feed the author :-)**


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Thank you everyone who reviewed! Thanks again to my wonderful beta fierce queen for finding time in her busy college life to do this! Also, kudos to Eve for figuring out who the attending in chapter 5 was! Anyone else has any guesses?

When June had told Mozzie Neal was in the hospital, he felt an overwhelming feeling of dread settle into his bones. He had to go back to New York— that much was obvious. But Mozzie now knew there was no way he would ever leave Neal alone again. There was no way he could. So, he booked a ticket back to his favourite city and made arrangements for the large chunk of treasure to be moved to a location more accessible from New York. Moz had also taken care of his beach house; he was never coming back here again unless for a very short vacation. Finally, he paid off all the necessary people, ensuring that he had never been here.

The flight back to New York was the longest of his life, guilt eating at him as the clock ticked away every second. If he hadn't left Neal this would not have happened. Moz could not sleep because every time he closed his eyes he could see Neal's face as he had left him, the look of understanding the younger man had given him made Mozzie feel even guiltier.

Mozzie landed in New York two days after receiving June's page. The taxi ride to the hospital was even worse, if that was possible. Mozzie's heart was pounding in his chest as if it would break his chest any second and leave his body. It would be rather fitting, Mozzie mused darkly. He would then be as heartless as he had acted towards his friend. The unfairness of his words and actions made him fidget uncomfortably in his seat as he prayed to a God he didn't believe in and begged for Neal to be okay so he could apologize for being such a thick-skulled idiot.

Mozzie, in typical Mozzie fashion, disguised himself as a doctor as he snuck around in the hospital. There were no charges against him for any crime, so it wasn't like he could be arrested. But Mozzie was paranoid. So he had donned a small pair of scrubs. He had then "borrowed" a stethoscope from the locker room along with a lab-coat with an ID card attached. His name was apparently "Dr. Sarah Walker". Ah, well, he mused. As long as he acted as if he belonged in the germ infested establishment, no one had any reason to check his identity.

He peered inside Neal's room. It had taken his entire con mans skills to get inside the ICU without bolting. Though seeing his friend with machines and tubes everywhere had scared him. Though, according to Neal's charts, he was improving. It was rather hard to believe when he looked at is friend's prone form. He shuddered at the thought of what he looked like when he was brought in and if this was supposed to be an improvement. But despite his reservations, Mozzie frequently visited Neal's room without anyone the wiser.

When Neal was moved into a private room, Mozzie had nearly jumped with joy. He had very much wanted to actually sit by his friend's side for some time, but El had been there so he satisfied himself by peeking inside the room at frequent intervals, though he was certain she had noticed him at least once. He wasn't hiding from Mrs. Suit, oh no. She was not a threat. But he knew that wherever El was the Suit was sure to be nearby, and Mozzie really doubted that he should be in the Suits presence before he talked to Neal.

And sure enough, the Suit came. Though, based on the limited period he had stayed, Mozzie gathered that things were not right between the Fed and his friend. Checking to see whether the coast was clear, Mozzie found Neal was the lone occupant in his room, so he entered. He wasn't a touchy feely guy. Mozzie strongly believed that touching would lead to germs being transferred and then to inevitable death. But on seeing Neal with his eyes downcast and looking so miserable, an unnatural urge to hug his friend came over him.

Neal looked up to see someone he was sure he would never see again.

"Moz?" he asked, surprise lacing his voice.

"Mon-frère," the short man nodded and stepped closer to the young man's bed.

"I thought you left." Confusion was evident in his voice.

"Well, I came back." Mozzie had reached Neal's side and sat on the chair next to his bed.

"But, why?" asked the wide eyed con-man, still rather confused at the sudden turn in events.

"June called. Neal, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you choose… I shouldn't have left," the vertically challenged man lamented, surprising both of them as he grasped Neal's hand in his own and turning sincere eyes towards shocked blue ones.

"It's okay Moz, I got why you left. I shouldn't have lied about the manifest, but I just wanted to stay, and I didn't know how to say it. I'm sorry." Blue eyes were downcast once again.

"No, I shouldn't have forced you to choose between me and the Suit."

"I should've been straight with you from the start. You're my oldest friend—I shouldn't have lied to you."

"Okay fine, so we both did some idiotic things. Can we please stop with the apologizing?" Mozzie said as Neal gave him a soft smile, his eyes bright.

"Fine by me Moz, but if you think that this means that you can steal all my wine, you have another thing coming." Neal said, a spark of his usual mischief in his eyes as both men chuckled.

"I do not steal your wine. Think of me as merely your food taster."

Neal smiled but failed to hide a yawn. It had barely been half an hour since he had woken up and his eyelids were feeling unnaturally heavy.

Mozzie patted Neal's shoulder and then helped him lie down, taking his seat by his side till El returned with two cups of coffee with a nearby coffee bistro's logo printed on it.

"Moz," she greeted, unsurprised by the man's presence as she smiled at him.

"Mrs. Suit," he nodded, giving her a small smile of his own.

"Well, Peter left and you're here so you can have his coffee," she said, extending a Styrofoam cup of good smelling Italian Roast.

"Thank you, my lady," the short man said in his strangely endearing way as he accepted the cup, and both of them sat in companionable silence keeping vigil over their mutual friend as they sipped the delicious caffeinated liquid.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Reviews feed the author : )


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I'm so sorry for the long time to take to update this. I hope the long wait was worth it. Enjoy!**

**Thank you Fierce Queen for taking out time to beta this, you're amazing!**

**Thank you everyone who has read and reviewed this story, this ones for you!**

Peter Burke had been right in expecting El to lecture him when he returned home after wasting time at the office when his pathetic attempt at talking to Neal failed.

"Peter, hon. He feels guilty as it is. Don't make it worse. Go talk to him."

"But El, I tried! You know I'm horrible at this emotional stuff," he all but whined to his wife.

"Well you have to talk to him. Tomorrow. No excuses."

"But El!" he whined.

"No buts! And you can sleep on the couch till you talk to Neal. Satchmo can keep your side warm until then." His annoyed wife stormed upstairs, leaving him to stare at her retreating figure dumbfounded. So he had been forced to sleep on the couch for three days straight, being too nervous to confront Neal till he was discharged. And his backache got the better of him.

And that's why Peter Burke, FBI agent was standing outside June Ellington's mansion as he unsurely shifted his weight from one foot to the next. The door swung open before he could knock it, revealing Neal's benefactress.

"Peter! What a pleasant surprise! Please, do come in!" the always gracious June gestured for the shocked man to enter.

"Hi June. I came to see Neal. How is he?"

"Ah, well. He says he is fine. But we all know how little he cares for his own health," June answered with a frown. "I meant to ask, what happened while I was away? How did that poor dear get pneumonia in the first place?"

"Um, I have no idea," Peter muttered, feeling his cheeks heat up as he was reminded how little attention he had paid to his friends waning health.

"Peter, dear. There is something clearly wrong. I can see that something happened to drive the two of you apart, and it's clearly eating up Neal from the inside. You don't have to tell me what it is, just talk to him."

"That's what I'm here for."

"And go gentle. He just came home today." Concern coloured her voice.

"I will, thanks June." He gave her a parting smile as he headed upstairs to Neal's apartment.

After climbing the three flights of steps that led to the con-man's studio apartment, he was again filled with uncertainty. He stood facing the mahogany door for a good ten minutes, unsure of what he was going to say when he entered. He mentally shook himself, 'cowboy up Peter!' he scolded himself as he raised his hand and knocked on the door.

A soft but clear "Come in!" made him turn the knob and enter the apartment.

Neal stood with his back towards Peter, an easel set up in front of him as he painted. Peter couldn't see what he was working on at that angle but he saw the top of what looked like a tree taking form under the young man's talented hands.

"Moz, seriously. You don't have to keep dropping in. I'm perfectly fine and it's not like I'm going to die, so relax. Go out, have fun. I kicked you out two hours ago and I'm kicking you out again," Neal said as he turned around to face Peter with a fond smile on his face.

His expression quickly changed from fond to panicky to confused. Had it been some other time, Peter would have laughed. Neal looked so comical holding a palette in one hand and a paintbrush in another, a streak of green paint on his cheek. He looked younger than he usually did, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tee-shirt, his hair un-styled and falling over his face. That mixed with the dumbstruck expression his consultant currently wore would've made him burst into peals of hysterical laughter. Instead, he closed the door and took a step closer to the con-man.

"Peter," came the slightly shocked voice of his CI.

"Neal. We need to talk."

**A/N: I know that many people feel as though El should be on Peters side, but I think that she would support Neal in this situation. She was the one who encouraged Peter to forgive Neal in the cannon for the Keller fiasco. However, that is just my opinion and since this is fiction; it doesn't really matter. There is just one final chapter after this. I'm hoping to put it up soon since my beta has a bit of free time. Thank you for reading! Please leave behind a review if you can, reviews feed the author!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: So, this is it. The final chapter to my story. I feel kind of sad, yet happy at the same time that I managed to accomplish this. I had never thought that I could write, and I managed to complete a story greater than 13000 words! Thank you everyone who read this, especially the 116 followers of this story and all those who favorite this. Thank you Fierce Queen for beta-ing this; 'Alone' really wouldn't have been the same without your help.**

**To all the friends I have made because of this story, you know who you are. This is for you.**

"_He took my wife."_

Neal knew that things were never going to be the same when Peter choked out the words more than three weeks ago. It didn't matter that he had nothing to do with El's kidnapping or that he had played a major role in saving her life. He didn't steal the treasure, and, more importantly, he chose to stay. But none of that mattered to his handler because the most precious thing in his life had nearly been taken away from him.

"Neal, we need to talk." Peter said.

Neal knew that this day was coming. He had been dreading the day when Peter would come and finally slap cuffs around his wrists and toss him back into the awful six-by-eight cell. Neal knew for a fact that if he was thrown back into prison he would never come out alive. Sure, they would arrange protection for him, but guards had been paid off to look the other way many times in Neal's experience. Now that he had helped put a lot of criminals in prison, he was sure he would be dead before his sentence was up.

Peter had walked closer to where Neal was standing, and the con-man thought back to the day of El's kidnapping. Peter had, understandably, been furious. He had taken Neal outside for some privacy and slammed the young man against a wall. If he was honest, Neal had been scared of that side of Peter Burke and he wasn't sure that fear had subsided.

As Neal watched, Peter walked to the dining table and took a seat and gestured for him to do the same. The young consultant hesitantly made his way to the table and sat across his handler, watching him warily.

"Neal. I came here to apologize for the way I have treated you the past couple of weeks. You didn't deserve that. You're my friend, and I didn't even give you the benefit of doubt. You were trying to give me an explanation. I'm willing to listen now."

"Wait, I'm not going to prison?" Neal stared at Peter in shock.

"Who told you that I was here to put you in prison?" Now it was Peter's turn to be shocked.

"No one. I just thought.."

"You thought that because of the past few weeks I was going to send you back?" Peter let out a weary sigh. "I won't lie to you, the thought did cross my mind, several times actually. But then I realized, well El made me realize, that it was wrong. You helped save her, and I'm not sure of the role you had in the Nazi treasure to begin with. So tell me now, did you steal it?"

"No."

Peter had learnt in the two years that Neal had been his CI that he had in fact never lied to him. Sure, he twisted words, omitted a few essential points at times and deflected questions. But he had never blatantly lied to Peter. The FBI agent just needed to know which questions to ask.

"Do you know who stole it?"

"Yes, I do. But before you ask me, no, I won't tell you who it was." Neal stared Peter in the eye for the first time in God knows how many days, his eyes shining with a fierce determination.

And just as if Neal had admitted it to him, Peter knew that it had to have been Mozzie who was behind the whole Nazi treasure fiasco.

"It was Mozzie, of _course_ it was Mozzie!" Peter let out an annoyed sigh when Neal refused to meet his gaze or reply to him.

In all the years Peter had known Neal; the con-man was quite loyal to his friends. It had been frustrating at times, when Neal managed to get one of his criminal friends off the FBI's radar, but Peter had respected that nonetheless. Neal had gotten Alex out of trouble more than once that way. But he was here to understand, not to interrogate. So he would let that go.

"Wait, so the day of the explosion? When I shot Adler.."

"I had no idea about anything. I honestly thought that the treasure had burned."

"So when I accused you of faking the explosion..." Peter said, realization suddenly striking him, taking his breath away.

"I was totally innocent." The con-mans lips were a thin line.

"Neal, I'm so sorry. I really thought you had done it."

"Oh, Peter, that's just bull! I _told_ you that I hadn't stolen the treasure. I have _never_ lied to you. And yet you kept me up all night to take the polygraph test. You didn't believe me. You never trusted me and you never will." Neal let out a bitter laugh as he started pacing the length of the room agitatedly.

"I had proof, I had a piece of your painting of the Chrysler building which flew out of the warehouse."

"Yeah well, someone must have allegedly replaced the Nazi loot with my art and let it burn instead," Neal said, a hint of sadness lacing his voice as he thought about his destroyed art. He was, after all, an artist at heart and it physically hurt when he found out that his creations had been destroyed.

"Okay, but you did find out about the treasure. Why didn't you turn it in?"

Neal gave Peter an incredulous look. "You had blamed me for doing something I hadn't done. I was angry. And then I saw the art. And I was tempted, so tempted." Neal's eyes took on a dreamy look as he returned to his previously occupied chair.

"So you were going to run?" Peter felt anger bubbling beneath the surface.

"I was."

"Do you wish you had left when you had the plane ready?" To Peter, this was a question he desperately needed answered. Would Neal have run if he the chance?

"I realized that New York is my home now. I have a life here. So no, I don't regret it."

Peter stared at the young man as he turned over this knowledge in his head

"I wanted to stay Peter," Neal said with vulnerability in his voice Peter had never heard before. "I chose to stay."

And suddenly, everything made sense to Peter. It felt like a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

"I'm so sorry about El. It's all my fault," the young man lamented.

"What happened to El wasn't your fault Neal. You didn't steal the treasure." He had wanted to reprimand Neal, explain to him that even though he wasn't the one directly responsible for El's kidnapping, he had in fact played a rather important role. Neal's inability to turn in the treasure when he had found it had eventually led to this. If Neal had only made up his mind to stay or leave earlier, this wouldn't have happened.

Peter wanted to shake Neal, to yell at him. It wasn't him but he had been angry that the love of his life had been dragged into danger because of the younger man's greed. But he could understand now why he had done what he did, at least to a certain extent. Neal had lived as a criminal for so long he didn't know what else to do. But he was trying. His delay in leaving with the treasure was proof of that.

"No. But Keller knew about the two of you because of me. First, he kidnapped you. Then El. He killed a man in front of me in cold blood, Peter. He wouldn't have hesitated to hurt either of you." Neal turned haunted eyes towards him.

"Neal, listen to me. This was all Keller's doing. You weren't responsible for it. Sure, you could have turned in the treasure and this might have been prevented…" Peter was now solely trying to comfort the con-man because it was obvious Neal had been blaming himself for what had happened more than anyone else.

"Peter, you don't understand. He is my oldest friend. He was there for me at a time I was totally alone. I don't know what I would have done if he wasn't there." Neal turned pleading blue eyes towards brown ones. And Peter suddenly understood what the con-man had been going through. Peter and Mozzie had been pulling him to two completely opposite directions. He was being forced to choose between his two best friends, between being a con or a man. And he had chosen the later, Peter realized with a jolt.

"I get it Neal. Now, can you forgive me for being a total ass the past few weeks?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Neal replied cheekily, eyes shining with mischief.

God, he had missed his smart-aleck CI.

"Peter, I am truly so sorry for what El had to go through. What I put you through. I will understand if you don't want to work with me anymore." Neal looked straight into Peter's eyes with anguish filling his.

"Neal, I know. I also know that you're busy berating yourself for what happened more than anyone else. To me, that means everything right now. Because it shows that you are willing to change your ways."

Neal nodded fiercely, determination filling his eyes.

"Though I think now you can forgive yourself. Everyone is fine, and you have learned your lesson."

"So forgive and forget?" Neal's hopeful voice was rather husky and his eyes were suspiciously bright.

"Forgive and forget, buddy," Peter said, as he placed a comforting hand on his consultants shoulder.

He didn't expect Neal to turn around and hug him back tightly.

"God, I wish we had met me when I was younger. You would make a great Dad."

Surprise and happiness filled Peter's heart and blinked his eyed rapidly. Stupid allergies were acting up.

The two men finally parted, subtly clearing their throats.

"Why don't you come over for dinner tonight? El's making one of those foofy things you like so much."

A genuine smile lit Neal's face. "I'd love to."

Peter gazed fondly at his friend did his hat trick and placed the old fashioned hat atop his wavy hair. He had truly missed Neal acting like a cartoon. It might take some time, but they would be okay.

**A/N**: **Thank you for reading. This is it, the end of a story which turned out to be more than just a one-shot because of all your support and encouragement.**

**A special thank you to grandmadiva who is the reason why I wrote this in the first place. I had posted the wrong document as the first chapter initially and she was kind enough to point it out after which I uploaded the correct story and all of you wonderful people supported me and drove me to write it.**

**I would also like to thank **_**hickeyosemite, Fab 50's, CaStaub, Elle92, Silverdawn2167, govagal, aliceann, Linoria, wotumba1, melgoodwin, SallyCarefree, EvE79, FedoraGirl90, Linaceae, ccluvhorses101, **__**castielslittleleviathan, BlueDiamondStar, leahk80**_**,**_** kat11bookworm**_** and the guest reviewer **_**AlexHa**_** , **_**ale ,Alyce**_**, and all the rest of you who I couldn't mention. I read each and every single one of your reviews and they all made me so happy!**

**And my heart is breaking a bit as I finish my extremely long rant; Please leave behind a review if you can. I hope to see you guys soon.**

**Cheers!**

**-Devoregirl**


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